


An Affair in the Workplace

by M4R4N14MH



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Possession, Angelic Possession, Aziraphale is a decent Actor, Crowley just runs for it, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Demonic Possession, Drunk Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel needs Glasses, God Plays Matchmaker, He'd need them after a while, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Look God's Memos are super bright, M/M, Michael actually cares, Multi, Possession, Sibling Bonding, Sort Of, Weird right, everyone is drunk, i'll stop talking now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 02:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4R4N14MH/pseuds/M4R4N14MH
Summary: Sometimes people need a little push to get them out of their comfort zone.Aziraphale and Crowley end up part of that push and no small amount of confusion results from it, although getting drunk does seem to ease the tension.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Gabriel & Michael (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94





	An Affair in the Workplace

Aziraphale groaned, a deep bass rumble. He didn’t remember falling asleep but here he was napping with his head leaning on his crossed arms. Blinking he tried to focus in on the bookshop. He must have been sleeping in front of his light again because everything was much too bright. 

A few blinks later he frowned. The white wasn’t disappearing, it was just coming into sharper focus, revealing a very clean looking office. A very _familiar_ office. 

Oh _fuck_… 

Aziraphale bolted upright, his back cracking uncomfortably, and immediately stumbled and fell over his feet which must still have been asleep. He landed on the ground with a thud and groaned. 

“Oh dear.” 

Wait. Wait a minute. Aziraphale coughed lightly, he must have been hearing things. 

“Err… Hello?” He blinked. That… wasn’t his voice. 

Fighting back irrational panic he brought his hands into view. These weren’t his hands. They were broad with nimble fingers and they were much too large to be his. He’d know, he’d been with those hands for more than six millennia. 

These were most definitely not them. 

Taking a deep breath Aziraphale pushed himself to his feet. The ground was _much_ further away than it usually was and those were certainly not _his_ shoes. Glancing around the office Aziraphale stumbled over to a floor-length mirror and stared at the reflected phantom in horror. 

Gabriel stood before him, angelically handsome face twisted into an expression of utter terror, clutching at the lapels of his suit in the exact same way Aziraphale was. Aziraphale lifted his hand and touched his cheek, Gabriel did the same. Aziraphale closed one eye and Gabriel closed one violet eye back. Hands shaking, Aziraphale carded his fingers through the downy grey of Gabriel’s hair and the phantom copied his movement. 

“Oh dear,” He said again, and he watched Gabriel’s mouth form the words, the worry sounding very odd in Gabriel’s much deeper voice. 

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” If he was in Gabriel’s _body,_ then… 

He realised he was hyperventilating and Aziraphale took a moment to catch his breath. If he was in Heaven (and he must be, this was certainly no dream), then he could hardly justify _possessing the corporation of the head Archangel_! That was probably a Fall-worthy offence and after the whole Apocalypse debacle Michael would most certainly be glad to carry out the sentence. 

He needed… needed… 

He needed to go home. The bookshop would hold answers, surely, and Crowley would be there! 

Aziraphale’s grin slipped a little at that. Crowley would be there but how would he react to seeing Aziraphale looking like _this_? Nervously Aziraphale wrung his hands together and was again surprised at how much harder the familiar action was with a strange pair of hands. 

Wobbling slightly, he managed to make it back to Gabriel’s desk and stood for a moment, thinking. 

That moment was very quickly ruined when the office door burst open and a petite angel crashed through it, arms full of beige and cream folders whose paper contents went spilling every which way when she lost her balance and sent all six thudding to the floor. Aziraphale recognised a fellow Principality and fought the urge to smile. Gabriel wouldn’t smile, he would be furious, but Aziraphale couldn’t quite bring himself to frown. 

He settled for mildly irritated and he crossed his arms for good measure. 

“Alariel?” He asked, trying to sound put-out and failing rather miserably. 

Alariel scrambled to her feet and set about clearing up the rather sizeable mess she’d made. 

Without a miracle. 

Now Aziraphale frowned and he snapped his own fingers, encouraging all the wayward bits of paper into the correct folders and floating the whole thing over to his- no, _Gabriel’s_\- desk. When he turned back around Alariel was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow, trying desperately to remember how Gabriel looked when he was puzzled, “Something the matter, Alariel?” 

The younger angel swallowed, “Uh… No. No, sir. Nothing at all the matter. I’ll just… I’ll just go. Michael needs the reports done in an hour, I’ll be back to collect them then.” With that she scurried off back out the door leaving Aziraphale looking at a very sizable stack of paperwork with a guilty feeling knotting in his belly (or was it Gabriel’s belly?). 

He’d taken over someone else’s body without permission. 

He couldn’t very well leave _work_ for him to do when Gabriel finally got his true body back, that was just rude. 

Although Gabriel was plenty rude himself at times. 

Aziraphale prided himself on always being the bigger man, however, so again he wobbled over to the desk, sat himself in the rather plush office chair, and pulled the stack towards himself. The first folder happened to contain several agent reports and Aziraphale sighed with relief. This he could do. 

He picked up the first slip and frowned. The words were far too blurry, was there an error with their printing? He squinted. 

Oh. 

With a wry smile Aziraphale summoned his reading glasses and suddenly the words jumped into focus. He supposed it was typical of Gabriel, really, struggling through his paperwork without using glasses because he was an Archangel and he shouldn’t _need_ glasses. Sometimes he wondered if the Almighty might have done well instilling some humility in the Archs (or just simple common sense). He’d been given an hour to run through the reports, but with the glasses Aziraphale completed the entire stack within twenty minutes. Setting all sixty agent reports aside he slid the glasses off. A small miracle had made them big enough to fit Gabriel’s slightly larger head and Aziraphale warred over whether to miracle them back. Eventually he decided not to bother, and, with a small wave of his hand, he conjured the case and gently set the glasses and case in the desk’s drawer. Hopefully Gabriel would check there after all of this blew over and find his workload easier to handle. 

Hopefully. 

Probably not. 

Sighing, Aziraphale stood up and had to brace himself as his legs refused to cooperate properly. Right, he should probably work on that. Gabriel didn’t tend to wobble around and Aziraphale was trying for inconspicuous. 

Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward and immediately stumbled, barely missing smashing his face on the edge of the desk. He huffed; the sound rather intimidating when it came from someone else’s mouth and struggled to his feet again. This time he was able to take several steps before having to brace himself on the desk chair. Better, not perfect, but Aziraphale had the patience of a well-fed Saint and he kept trying until his stride was as confident as he’d ever seen it. 

Now if only he could get back to Earth. Using the world portal may be a tad… conspicuous, he realised. Gabriel would go the proper way, he was sure. 

Filled with (fake) confidence, Aziraphale left the office and nearly bowled over Alariel. 

She squeaked and backed up a step, “So sorry, sir! I-I didn’t see you there!” 

Aziraphale frowned, “It’s quite alright, Alariel. I’m just tickety-boo!” 

Aziraphale immediately wanted to kick himself. His inner-Crowley snickered, mockingly. Gabriel would most certainly not use _that_ particular phrase, as far as Aziraphale knew only he himself knew about it and if Alariel knew he knew that then- 

She smiled brightly, “Alright then, sir. Are the reports ready?” 

Aziraphale swallowed, utterly relieved, “Yes, yes of course they are. On my desk.” 

Alariel disappeared inside and Aziraphale walked as fast as he could down the corridor lest she suddenly realise his slip-up and confront him about it. Angels passed him by in the corridors and Aziraphale resisted the urge to look away. Gabriel didn’t avert his eyes for _anybody_, they averted _their_ eyes. He couldn’t lie that seeing the Quartermaster give a deferential bow in his direction was rather satisfying but his nerves were far too frayed to contemplate staying any longer than necessary- no matter how cathartic such a trip might be. The escalators back to Earth weren’t far off now, Aziraphale could feel a smile tug at Gabriel’s lips at the thought of escaping back to the bookshop and he sped up- 

“Gabriel!” 

His stomach sank. Plastering on a smile Aziraphale spun on his heel to face Michael. The older Archangel was smiling (and wasn’t that a weird look) and she gestured to the corridor. 

“Walk with me?” 

Aziraphale nodded, “Of course.” 

Aziraphale desperately hoped he wasn’t sweating as he walked beside Michael. With his own corporation he could stop any unseemly bodily reactions with little more than a thought, he definitely did _not_ want to risk such a casual gesture with Gabriel’s corporation. He might accidentally break his arm for all Aziraphale knew, and that… 

Well that would be utterly unacceptable. 

Michael didn’t appear to notice anything amiss and continued on down the corridor with Aziraphale attempting to match her stride using unfamiliar legs. 

“So, Gabriel…” 

Aziraphale’s mouth dried out and he tried to surreptitiously lick his lips, “Yes?” 

Michael glanced at him, “How have you been, brother? I know our failure troubled you to no end.” 

Aziraphale sent a silent prayer Upwards as he cleared his throat in what he hoped sounded like a thoughtful way. 

“Oh, right… err…” Well this was going well. 

Michael looked at him again but Aziraphale was surprised to see pity in her stormy grey eyes. 

“It’s been hard on everyone, brother, there’s no shame in taking some time off to… gather your thoughts, as it were.” Michael laid a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and Aziraphale valiantly withheld a flinch. He tried to make Gabriel look pensive, surely the Archangel would never, not in a million years, ever think of a _holiday_! 

Or… would he? 

He needed to get to Earth, get back to the bookshop and find Crowley so they could sort this whole mess out together, and here Michael was offering an escape route and here _he_ was thinking about how Gabriel would react? 

Aziraphale scoffed at his own stupidity. Gabriel, if he were actually here, would be flaming _furious_. A Traitor controlling his corporation, signing off on unauthorised miracles, oh Gabriel would be _fuming_. 

But he was not Gabriel. 

So Aziraphale decided to put some of Shakespeare’s acting lessons to use. 

Forcing a slight tremor into Gabriel’s baritone voice Aziraphale sighed, “I… have been thinking about it.” 

Michael’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline, “You have?” 

Aziraphale nodded and clasped his- _Gabriel’s_\- hands together in front of him, “I have but it’s taken me quite a while to… ah, come around to the idea.” 

Michael nodded, “Understandable, Earth is quite a change of pace. But that may be just what you need. I know Earth cannot compare to Heaven but I also know our Lord made Earth for a reason, I’m sure you’ll find something to raise your spirits down there and, rest assured, I’ll take care of any paperwork until you see fit to come back to us.” 

Aziraphale was struck dumb for a moment. He’d never seen Michael look so happy, like something had finally, _finally_ happened and a great worry had been lifted from her shoulders. 

Finding his voice took some doing but Aziraphale eventually collected what remained of his wit and smiled. This time it wasn’t forced, and he imagined Gabriel looked very odd with a genuine smile, Michael just seemed relieved. Before Aziraphale could make his excuses and leg it to the escalator (as casually as an escaping prisoner would flee Alcatraz) Michael leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. 

It was a hug. 

The _Archangel Michael_ was _hugging_ him. 

Aziraphale felt his own arms rise and hug her back just as tightly. It was just as well his body (or, rather, Gabriel’s body) had done so because Aziraphale was, once again, attempting to bring himself back online. 

After a few moments Michael let go and Aziraphale did the same. 

The Archangel warrior flushed slightly but the happy smile didn’t leave her face. 

“Go on, brother. I’ll inform everyone that you’re not to be disturbed until you return.” 

Aziraphale paused and smiled back, placing an unfamiliar hand on Michael’s shoulder. 

“Thank you.” And he meant it. His experience of the Archangels was, admittedly, a very negative one but Michael was _trying_, and he would be damned (hopefully not) if he rebuffed her kindness and concern over his own personal feelings. He had a responsibility. This was _Gabriel’s_ body, not his own, and he would not cause more hassle than he had already. 

Michael sighed happily, “You’re welcome, brother. Now go, you’ll be back before you know it.” 

With that Michael walked away. Aziraphale breathed out a quiet sigh of relief as he turned back to the escalators. 

That had been... well, odd certainly, but also rather heart-warming. 

Flexing one hand Aziraphale shook his head clear and marched over to the escalator heading down. There was still a problem to be solved and that would require research, a cup of cocoa, and a particularly feisty red-haired demon. 

***

The walk back to the bookshop was odd for several reasons. 

Number one, Aziraphale was still getting used to Gabriel’s longer gait and as such he almost missed several turns because he was so used to going much slower. 

Number two, he was much taller than usual so he could see over many of the human’s heads which lead to several awkward situations where he nearly bowled over several smaller humans. 

And number three, arguably the weirdest of the lot, people _noticed _him. Several times Aziraphale noticed women, and quite a few men, giving him a not-inconsiderably searching look. It made him want to put on a heavy coat or something, even though Gabriel’s suit was already quite concealing. 

By the time he reached the bookshop, Aziraphale was beginning to understand exactly why Gabriel was always so irritated whenever he visited. 

Mercifully, the shop was empty, and Aziraphale breathed in the dusty smell with a soft smile. 

A thud from the backroom interrupted his relief. 

“_Fucking finally_!” Shouted an unfamiliar voice. Aziraphale stiffened in surprise. There were a few more thuds before a black-haired head popped out of the backroom. 

Aziraphale felt his stomach grow tight as his spine tingled with icy fear. 

The demon Prince Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, stumbled out of his backroom, “Where the Hell were you, angel? You had me... worried...” 

The demon’s eyes widened when they finally looked at Aziraphale. They growled low in their throat and Aziraphale backed away, his hands feeling desperately empty. Oh, why oh, why had he not kept his sword? 

Beelzebub buzzed angrily, “_Gabriel_!” They spat, advancing on Aziraphale like a predatory cat. 

Aziraphale backed up until he felt the solid wood of a bookshelf behind him. His mouth was drier than a desert and it took several attempts before he could speak. 

“Please...” 

Beelzebub stopped, “Pleazze?” 

They rolled the word around on their tongue as if tasting it. 

Their face contorted in a snarl, “You didn’t show mercy to my angel, why the fuck would I show you any?” 

Something clicked. Aziraphale felt his jaw slacken as he stared at the advancing demon. 

“Crowley?” He asked, tentatively, in Gabriel’s low voice. 

Beelzebub paused, their eyes narrowing, “How did you-” 

Aziraphale smiled, “Crowley. Crowley, it’s me! Don’t you recognise me?” 

Beelzebub- no, Crowley squinted, “Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes, darling, it's me.” 

Crowley frowned, the gesture pulling Beelzebub’s pale lips down, “Prove it.” 

Aziraphale was momentarily stumped until he smiled, “When the Antichrist was born and you delivered him to the Nuns, we spent most of the night drinking. You talked about dolphins and other such wonderful nonsense, and then we agreed to be the boy’s Godfathers so he would grow up normal.” He chuckled, “Though it didn’t really work out that way.” 

Crowley paused for a moment, and for a heartbeat Aziraphale was worried he wouldn’t believe him, and then Crowley grinned- the look very odd in the Prince’s face. 

“You look like a bazztard, angel.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, “And you look like an insect, dear.” 

Crowley stood up properly, “And don’t I know it, angel. The buzzing izzz bloody irritating.” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrow rose when he saw what was nestled amongst the strands of Crowley's black hair. 

“Dearest?” He asked, “Why do you have leaves in your hair?” 

Crowley blinked, “Oh that? Err... when I got out of Hell I zzurfaced near my apartment. Turnzz out my plantzz may have abzzorbed zzzome of my feelingzzz for Downzzztairzz. I barely got out of there alive.” 

Aziraphale suppressed a giggle, “Your plants attacked you?” 

Crowley nodded and winced as he pulled out a thorn from where he’d presumably missed it on his neck, “Yeah, the little buggerzz went crazy the zzecond I zzztepped into the room, my begonia nearly zztrangled me and zzeveral cheezzeplantzzz almozzt zzmothered me. I don’t know whether to be angry or proud.” 

This time Aziraphale did giggle but he smothered it with his hand, or Gabriel’s hand. Good Lord this was getting confusing. 

“And the Bentley? I didn’t see it outside.” 

Crowley grinned, “That izzzn’t for lack of trying. Bloody thing wouldn’t even let me in, zzo I had to walk.” 

Aziraphale sighed, his amused smile settling into a slightly worried frown, “Do you know what’s happening?” 

Crowley shook his- no _Beelzebub’s_\- head, “Nope. One minute we were napping together in bed, the next I wake up in Hell in thizz fucking body.” 

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes, me too. How did you get out?” 

Crowley shook his head, “Not here, angel. If we’re gonna talk about thizz, I want to be zzzo drunk that I don’t even notice the zzodding buzzing.” 

***

Two hours later both Aziraphale and Crowley were giggling hysterically and being kept company by the remains of roughly sixty wine bottles cluttering the coffee table and many, many more full ones littering the floor awaiting drainage. 

Crowley polished off yet another bottle and broke into a second bout of hysterics, “Tickety-boo? You zzaid _tickety-boo_?” 

Aziraphale felt his cheeks flush, “Yep.” 

“What did whatzz-her-face zzay?” 

Aziraphale took another swig of a wine bottle, “Nothing. Just asked where the r-reports were.” 

Crowley laughed so hard tears started streaming down his face. 

Aziraphale grinned, “It still doesn’t beat what you did, my dear. I would never have thought to cause such a marvellous distraction* a-and then blame it on _Hastur_!” 

Crowley shrugged and attempted to look modest, an impossible task even if he were still in his own body, “Eh, it wazzz nothing really. Almozzt embarrazzzingly eazzy to zzlip out unnoticed once the goatzz started licking the wallzz.” 

They both shuddered at the horrifying consequences such an act would bring upon the poor creatures.

“Anyway,” Crowley said as he shifted on the sofa to reach for another bottle, “You zzaid Michael hugged you?” 

Aziraphale nodded, blinking owlishly as one of the bulbs in the lamps gave out and made the room considerably darker. He must remember to replace that. 

“Yes, she was quite... lovely, actually. You know, for her.” 

Crowley raised a petite eyebrow, “No, I wouldn’t. She wazzz alwayzz a bit of a bitch, really.” 

“_Crowley_!” 

Crowley sniggered, “Oh, come off it, angel. She izz! Alwayzz too bloody uptight.” 

He took another swig of... brandy? This far away, Aziraphale couldn’t see the label, but it looked like brandy. He took the moment to study his own bottle, squinting down at the blurry label, before giving it up as a lost cause. Given Gabriel’s much taller frame he wasn’t able to comfortably sit up in the armchair and as such he was more sprawled on it, powerful limbs spread every which way. Distantly he knew this indulgence was a sort of violation of Gabriel’s privacy but a hefty swig of -oh it_ was_ whiskey- soon sent that thought packing. 

Crowley, seated as usual on the sofa, was sitting with Beelzebub’s small legs crossed, a bottle nestled on his lap like a beloved child. It was odd, Aziraphale realised, to see a Prince of Hell smiling. With Crowley, the absurdity of a demon actually being _happy_ had long since worn off, but watching Beelzebub’s eyes sparkle as Crowley laughed, watching those pale lips curl into a genuine smile, was a whole new level of weird. On some level Aziraphale really quite liked it, when that pale face wasn’t scowling or about to sentence his beloved demon to death, they were actually rather beautiful. 

Having Crowley piloting was probably a big help, in Aziraphale’s biased opinion, but he couldn’t deny that the Prince looked so much better with a healthy flush on their cheeks and a smile tugging at their lips. 

“Dear?” Aziraphale asked, sipping quietly at his whiskey. 

Crowley finished draining the brandy and looked over at him, “Hm?” 

“How long do you think this will last?” He gestured to himself with a still-unfamiliar hand and to Crowley under the mop of black hair, “The switching bodies thing,” He clarified, “Not being drunk.” 

Crowley hummed and selected another bottle from the stack not yet plundered, “Dunno. Why? Not enjoying life azz an Archangel?” 

Aziraphale scowled but without much heart, “You know I don’t, darling.” 

Crowley shuddered, “Now that’zz fucking weird.” 

“What?” 

Crowley gestured in his vague direction, “_That_. Gabriel calling me ‘Darling’, it’zz juzzt...” 

“Disturbing?” Aziraphale offered. 

Crowley nodded and took another draught of amber liquid, “Yep. That.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, “But seriously, dear, Adam’s coming over tomorrow. Mightn’t it be a little odd for him to come here and see us like this? Last time he saw them they were trying to convince him to start a war that would destroy the world, what d’you think he’d do if he came here and saw them where we should be?” 

Crowley frowned, “Huh. Fair point.” 

Aziraphale took another sip, “And that’s not all. What if we... what if we’re stuck like this? What if- Oh, Crowley! What if Gabriel and Beelzebub are in _our_ bodies? They might come looking for us and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not get discorporated _again_ and-” 

Crowley crawled over the sofa and placed a single pale finger over Aziraphale’s lips, “Angel. Shush. I checked upzztairzz, we’re zztill there.” 

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief, “You did?” 

“Yep,” Crowley grinned, “Zzzecond I got back I checked. Mozzt literal ‘out of body experience’ I’ve ever had.” 

Aziraphale laughed, “So we’re still asleep?” 

Crowley shrugged, “Either that or we’re dead. Not much of a difference really, conzzidering we aren’t in ‘em.” 

Aziraphale took another swig, only to be disappointed as the bottle yielded little more than a mouthful. Setting it down rather clumsily on a spare bit of carpet, Aziraphale struggled to retain enough control over his limbs so he could sit up. After about five minutes of drunken struggle (Crowley sniggering like a child the entire time) Aziraphale finally managed to wrangle all four limbs and stand up so he could shuffle over to the sofa. Crowley budged up to give him room. 

Settled once more Aziraphale went hunting for another bottle only for Crowley to pass him one. Gratefully he took it and swallowed a draught. Spicy warmth crawled its way down his throat and he sighed contentedly. 

“You know I love you.” 

Crowley nearly spat out his wine. Aziraphale laughed quietly to himself as the demon attempted to control his sudden coughing fit. Once his lungs had sorted themselves out, Crowley glared. 

“That wazzn’t funny, angel.” 

Aziraphale grinned, “I beg to differ, my dear.” 

Crowley’s glare shifted into something else. What it was exactly, Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but he could see it was _hungry_. 

“You want to play it like that, huh?” He asked, gently pulling the bottle out of Aziraphale’s grip and setting it down out of sight. 

Aziraphale gulped, “Like what?” 

Crowley laughed as he slunk closer, “You know what.” 

“I-I’m not sure I- _oh!”_ Crowley kissed his neck and Aziraphale felt a spark of electricity race down his spine. Unconsciously he bared his neck to give Crowley better access and the demon took it gratefully, kissing from Aziraphale’s jawline to his Adam’s apple. Aziraphale groaned and the uncanny noise, one not his own, nearly snapped him out of his drunken arousal.

“Crowley- _ah- _we... we can’t-!” Crowley shut him up with a kiss and Aziraphale received it hungrily. Beelzebub’s lips should have been cold, but they felt deliciously warm against Aziraphale’s. He tasted honey and lavender and for a long, long time it was all he could taste as Crowley cupped his face and kept the kiss going. Distracted, Aziraphale almost didn’t notice that the suit had been pushed off his shoulders until Crowley disengaged the kiss and bit down on his collarbone. 

This time he couldn’t suppress a moan and he found his hands gently unbuckling the hideously complicated suit that his demon wore. Soon both of their necks were covered in light bruises and Crowley connected them with another searing kiss, Aziraphale’s hands wound into Crowley’s silky black hair, and they pressed their bodies even closer until- 

Aziraphale woke with a start. Beside him, Crowley cursed and scrabbled around under the comfortable duvet until his dishevelled head appeared beside Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale swallowed and looked at his hands. They were his, always had been, always would be. As familiar to him as Crowley’s eyes were. Crowley himself tugged a lock of his red hair into his field of vision and squinted at it. 

“Huh.” Was all he said. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, “Dearest did you-?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And I was-?” 

“Yep.” 

They both fell silent. 

“Was it a dream do you think? Aziraphale asked as he gently prodded his neck, feeling no trace of any bruising. 

From below the apartment came two very distinct and very loud voices. 

“**_WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL_**-!?” Screamed one, a buzzing lilt to their voice. 

“**_WHAT IN HEAVEN’S NAME_**-!?” Screeched the other. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and grinned devilishly as Aziraphale blushed a deep red, “Not a dream, angel.” 

***

Far, far away She sighed, happily. 

It had taken a very long time to pull off but that was the joy of working with immortals, there was always more time. 

The whole Apocalypse business did rather throw a wrench in things, She had to admit, but it had all worked out rather well all things considered. Her dear Aziraphale and Crowley had played their parts beautifully and now She was ready to move onto the next stage of Her newest project. 

In Her opinion they deserved one another after being so dreadfully alone for so long and, though She hated to involve Herself in the affairs of the heart and of free will, Her darling Gabriel and sweet Beelzebub had been a special case. Stubborn as mules, the both of them. 

She smiled, they’d just needed a push, something for them to puzzle out together. She’d made sure they’d never find out who’d had very brief control of their bodies and She knew that this would only add fuel to the spark lit by the failed Armageddon. 

Now, She’d need only wait for the fire to catch. 

God had waited six thousand years for an angel and a demon to fall in love, after all, She could wait for this. 

*Said distraction would be a mystery in Hell for centuries to come. How a herd of goats had managed to find their way into Hell had made even the wiliest demons scratch their heads. Of course, it was the fault of _The_ wiliest demon that they had managed to get down there at all, but the Records department was far too busy rewriting the many reports the goats had eaten to notice such an inconsequential miracle added to Crowley’s already lengthy stack.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello again :)  
Second oneshot here that I came up with, once again, to distract myself from my big fic. Needed to write something light and fun to offset the rather... heavy mood of the big fic at the moment.  
Hope you enjoyed reading it, I certainly enjoyed writing it!  
(Although my headache would beg to differ.)


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